


these crumbling walls

by hesperia



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-22
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesperia/pseuds/hesperia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyanna has an urge that cannot be ignored, no matter how hard she tries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	these crumbling walls

He comes to her late in the day, his tunic open at the collar, his hair damp from earlier when he'd been bathing in the river. She hadn't meant to watch but the day had been so nice that she had thrown open the shutters of her windows, and breathed in the air. The air was never as fresh as in the North, but the breeze was delightful on her face and the last few months had been so unbearably hot. 

She'd seen him, waist deep off the bank of the river. It was easy to see why he was called the greatest knight who had ever lived, just on his body alone. He was tall, taller than any of her brothers, taller than Rhaegar. And his shoulders, wide expanse of sinewy muscle, so defined that even from her tower, Lyanna could appreciate the form of his body. She'd moved away from the window then, a deep flush filling her, for It wasn't the first time that she'd had these feelings. 

Her pregnancy had been a relatively easy one, and Lyanna had been thankful for it, since Rhaegar had left her to fight Robert and his foolish rebellion she'd been insatiable. At first she thought it was just because she missed Rhaegar, that she was used to having him with her, inside her. But weeks passed, and the feelings did not abate, instead they grew worse, more insistent until she could barely concentrate on anything but the throbbing ache between her legs. 

And every time she looked at Arthur Dayne those feelings seemed to multiple.

At first she had felt guilty, her body betraying her heart, but at the war continued, Lyanna Stark soon came to realize that Robert's rebellion was less about her, if it had ever been at all, and more about the pride of men. Rhaegar had not sent any ravens for months to her for months now, and the only ones that came were updates from King's Landing to Lord Commander Hightower. 

It seemed that the chase of Robert Baratheon was even more of a thrill to Rhaegar than the chase of Lyanna Stark. 

"Are you well, your grace?" Arthur asked. He always called her that, despite her protestations to call her Lyanna. She supposed he meant it as the utmost of respect, but it made her feel more like a stranger. She motioned to the chair next to her as she nodded, running a small hand over the large swell of her abdomen. "And the babe?"

"Stronger every day," she said, proudly. Even then she felt the ripple of movement as the baby shifted inside her. "He moves to remind he's here, that he's going to be here soon." She reached for Arthur's hand, placing it on her stomach. "Feel how strong he is," she urged, as he tried to pull his hand away.

Arthur eyes shifted warily at Lyanna, but his hand stayed in place, spanning large and warm through the material of Lyanna's gown. And then Lyanna felt the flush start, the heady rush as her nipples hardened beneath her shift and gown, and the familar ache began. The baby pushed against her and Arthur's eyes widened, surprise on his face as he withdrew his hand. 

Lyanna was breathing softly through her mouth, trying to be conspicuous about her actions but Arthur's gaze caught hers and he frowned. 

"Are you unwell, your grace?" 

She shook her head, getting up to walk to the window and throw open the wooden shutters once again. "It is the heat..." she said, keeping her back to him. She tried to picture Rhaegar, her beautiful prince, with his silver hair and violet eyes. Rhaegar who had loved her so fiercely. She tried to picture his face when he had taken her maidenhead that first time, and all the times after that, but all she could see was Ser Arthur. 

"Your grace, perhaps I should get Wylla. You did say the babe would be here soon." His voice was stern now, like when he spoke with the Kingsguard, and she turned to finding him standing, a hand on the door, ready to make haste to the kitchens where Wylla would be with Ser Whent and Ser Hightower. 

Lyanna placed her forehead against the stone wall of the tower and breathed deeply at the relief the cool stone provided. "It is not the babe," she said, turning to Ser Arthur. "It is..." She paused, there was no going back after this. Could she really ask this of him? 

"Your grace?" 

She could not find the words, but she took his hand from the door and placed it under her skirt, and between her thighs to the wet, throbbing heat of her sex. "Please, I cannot bear it any longer." 

Unlike earlier, Arthur did not immediately pull his hand away, but slowly stroked her mound, long thick fingers sliding easily over the soft matted hair. "How long?" he asked, his voice was low and deep, and Lyanna felt his words reverbate in her chest. His fingers were probing now, teasingly sliding over slick flesh, cirling the tiny bud of nerves, and then lower still, the tip of one finger teasing her opening. "How long have you needed this?" He slid one finger all the way inside her, curling it up around her. 

Lyanna moaned, her fingers grasping for purchase against the stone wall but finding none. "Since Rhaegar," she said, breathless, her hips canting towards his hand, wanting more, needing more. "Since he left." 

Arthur slid his finger out of her, and Lyanna felt a soft whine slip from her mouth. "Breathe, your grace," Arthur said, a second finger joining as he slid the first back in. Lyanna bucked wildly now against the curling of his fingers, the slippery in and out slide of them. With his other hand he reached for the tie of her shift, pulling open her neckline. Her breasts were larger now than they had ever been, and he cupped one in his hand, his thumb rubbed hard over the wide, dark pink nipple, already taught beneath his touch. 

It was only when Arthur dropped his mouth to her breast, suckling her nipple into his mouth, laving at it with his tongue, did Lyanna's release sneak up on her. She felt every muscle in her body tensing and when the overwhelming pleasure washed over her, exploding like bright white lights behind her eyes, then Lyanna found the relief she had been needing.


End file.
